At Long Last
by PsychoticDemonic
Summary: For Arthur, there was nothing more awkward than waking up to your lover rutting against you in his sleep.  But, really, he wondered what he expected.  It was Francis after all. FrUK


As his eyes opened, Arthur felt a rhythmic motion against his lower back. Which was definitely not the way he wanted to be woken up.

Arthur had been put through a lot of awkward and embarrassing situations. It came with being Francis's lover and Alfred's friend. But this. For Arthur, there was nothing more awkward than waking up to your lover rutting against you in his sleep. But, really, he wondered what he expected. It was _Francis_ after all.

Arthur could slightly, only slightly, understand why this was happening. They'd both been bogged down with meetings, too busy during the day and too tired at night. It'd probably been close to a week since they'd even _seen _each other. Then yesterday was the World Conference, in London this year, and Francis had arrived at Arthur's house after the meeting.

He really should've known better than to let him in. Yet, even though it was so long since they're last meeting, the two nations could do barely more than drag themselves to bed and fall asleep.

Arthur tried to squirm away, still tangled in his sheets. When he heard a moan, he realized it was not having the effect he was looking for.

Now for the 2nd attempt.

"Francis?" Arthur asked, trying to wake the other blond. "Francis, wake up. Francis! C'mon, you bloody frog! Wake up!" France didn't respond. Arthur settled for squirming once again, desperately trying to get away.

"Arthur," Francis moaned into his ear, hot breath fanning across his cheek. "Yes, _there_."

"Francis!" England near screeched, flailing his fists wildly and trying to land a hit on the nation behind him. Francis's lips grazed a certain spot on his neck, a spot only Francis and Alfred knew about, in a way that Arthur was sure couldn't be purely accidental, sending a spark of pleasure down his spine. A gasp tore from his throat, eyes falling half shut. He pressed back against Francis's movements, whimpering every time the taller nation's hips connected with his. The silken sheets twisted around his legs as he tried to move closer against him, spreading his legs just a small bit.

Arthur moaned, hands grasping Francis's hips. He managed to push the other nation away just enough to turn around and face his lover. The sun from the uncovered window blinded him for an instant, before he focused completely on Francis. Renewed friction, especially with his own arms around the other blond, made Arthur moan louder. England pressed harder, feeling himself get closer and closer to that peak, the rough fabric of his boxers only adding to the pleasure.

"F-Francis!" He groaned, feeling wetness spurt into his boxers and seep onto the sheets. He felt Francis moan against his neck, and a matching wet spot appear on the other nation's underwear. Arthur settled into the bed again, too exhausted to care about how embarrassingly fast he had finished or the stickiness on his thighs.

The exhaustion was quickly dispelled when he felt his lover smirk against his neck.

"Francis," Arthur growled, his eyebrows furrowing.

"Yes?" Francis replied, his voice smug.

"You bloody frog! I'm going to castrate you! Just see if I don't!"

"Now now, Arthur! You would never do that to me! Then who would give you pleasure?" There was a slight note of panic in the taller nation's voice, wondering if he had actually annoyed Arthur enough to push him over the edge.

"Bloody frog," Arthur muttered, made nearly speechless by defeat rather than anger.

"You love it."

"Shut _up_."

"And I know what else you love, Arthur," Francis murmured, a hand sliding down the back of Arthur's boxers and squeezing his butt.

"Don't you ever stop?" Arthur grumbled, closing his eyes.

"You love it."

"..."

"That's not a denial."

"Bloody frog."

.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.

Yeah, so, haven't been around a lot. Here you go, to tide you over until the post-AP/end of year projects and finals are over.


End file.
